


You’re the Apple of My Pie

by shangrilove



Series: When Life Gives You Cupcakes [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Cheer up!Fic, Food Searching, Gen, M/M, Nando looks hot in an apron, New York City, Real Madrid CF, Romance, Travel, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shangrilove/pseuds/shangrilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sergio smashes his penalty high above the bar, Fernando takes him to New York, cue your favorite couple as tourists, eating and loving their way through the city that never sleeps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You’re the Apple of My Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Set soon after the 2011-2012 season, see bottom for more details. This came out a lot sappier than I thought it would be, especially the last part. Thanks to everyone who wanted more from this verse, how can I not oblige? And cupcakes for [jumping-down](http://jumping-down.livejournal.com) for betaing a fic that I didn't expect to be beta'd due to computer fail (more to come later).

 

 

 

“Move.” Fernando nudges his boyfriend aside brusquely. “I need the space to roll out the brioche.” 

“Urgh.” Sergio grunts and shuffles over a foot before he lies down again, dredging his brown locks in bakery scraps. That’s how Fernando knows something is profoundly wrong; the footballer absolutely detests things in his hair, especially baking products. It’s been the subject of his many rants (“now I have to shower again!”) when Fernando reaches for kisses and inevitably leaves some dough behind.

“Seriously, you need to stop moping.” Fernando sighs as he starts working his way through the dough. He tosses a stray piece at Sergio, who doesn’t even flinch as the bit of flour sticks to his head. “You’re disturbing the tranquility of my pastries, they say bread rises slower in bad environments.”

The defender flips his head to look at the baker over but remains silent. His face is turned down in a brooding pout, and he looks as miserable as that first time Fernando made him gougéres. He fixes his fiercest stare at the prone man, “honestly, you need to get over it.”

Sergio makes a sound that would’ve been a moan if he were a banshee and sighs, “I thought this was the year.”

“You’ll have next year,” Fernando consoles him, “and the years after that.”

“But this year, it just felt this was it.” Sergio grumbles. “We were doing _so_ well, and everyone thought we were going to win it all.” 

“You guys have the league guaranteed, even with three games left.” The chef points out. “That’s nothing to scoff at.” 

Sergio’s mouth twists stubbornly. “I wanted to win Champion’s League.” 

“So greedy.” Fernando laughs. He doesn’t play football and doesn’t understand the lure of trophies and glory. He’s happy as long as his pastries turn out well and brings even the smallest shred of happiness to whoever eats them. Life doesn’t get anymore simpler than that. 

“It’s my fault too.” He droops his head again. “I let my team down.” 

The chef frowns, Sergio always gets like this when he mentions that game. He saw the clip on TV, everyone in Spain had been talking about the penalty that went off into space. Even if he doesn’t know much about football, he thinks the other man is being a tad overly dramatic. “Sometimes things don’t go as planned.” He shrugs. “I wasted 600€ of high quality cocoa the other day when it didn’t temper right.” 

“And I got my team kicked out of the Champion’s League.” Sergio snaps. His boyfriend is comparing the European Championship to 600€ of chocolate beans. He can just buy another batch of beans, but no amount of money can get the Champion’s League trophy (God knows Real Madrid has tried how much they spend in the transfer market). 

“What you need,” Fernando says as he sticks a tray in the oven, closing the door with a satisfying bang, “is to not think about football.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible.” The footballer admits. “Though the season is almost over.” 

“Any plans for during the break?” 

“Not really.” Sergio shakes his head. The clump of dough is still in his hair. “I’ve been too depressed to think about it.” 

“Good.” Fernando smiles, creating creases amongst all the freckles. “I have a surprise for you.”

 

~

 

“Seriously, this is your idea of a surprise?” Sergio asks. He’s squished into the window seat in the back of the plane in economy class. He can’t remember the last time he’s flown in economy, it’s always been private charters or first class. “You should’ve let me upgrade the tickets.” 

Fernando glances at his boyfriend who’s been grumbling ever since they arrived at the airport. “The event coordinators sent me those tickets, and our seats are perfectly fine.” He glances around, the back section is only half full and the couple has three whole seats all to themselves, which is almost as roomy as two seats in first class. The best part though, is that nobody expects Sergio Ramos to be cramped in the back of a flight to New York City. He hasn’t been recognized yet and everyone else on the plane is either occupied or sleeping. 

“The air back here is making my hair frizzy.” He complains. 

“I’m fairly sure the air is the same, regardless of where in the plane we’re sitting.” Fernando says drily. Still, he tucks a stray strand behind Sergio’s ear and presses a soothing kiss to his chin. They definitely wouldn’t be able to do that in first class, with all the attentive flight attendants hovering. “Look how quiet it is back here.” 

Sergio grumbles but leans against his taller boyfriend, his head resting on Fernando’s chest. Their fingers are tangled together underneath the thick travel blanket. It’s true, this level of anonymity is kind of nice. It’s rare that he and Fernando have been in public together. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to join the mile high club?” 

Fernando giggles and runs his fingers through the defender’s scalp. “Behave, we’ll be there soon.”

 

~

 

As a concession, the baker agreed to let Sergio pick the hotel. He was expecting something outrageous (he saw the Plaza Hotel site open on his computer) and so he’s pleasantly surprised when they pull up to a quaint but well kept brownstone that looks more like a home than a hotel. The Library Hotel says a non-descript sign. Fernando likes it already. 

“I thought somewhere more low key would be better.” Sergio smiles and grabs their bags from the trunk. This is really New York because the cabbie just grunts and drives off. 

“There are books on the walls.” Fernando exclaims, before he jumps onto the king size bed like a kid. “Comfy.” He says, sprawling like a starfish. 

“Nap?” Sergio crawls onto the bed and for a minute, they kiss contentedly. It’s different somehow, kissing in a hotel room in New York, new and exciting. Sergio can get used to this, maybe they should replicate this in other parts of the world too. They break apart and he starts to drift off, gratified in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“No no no.” Fernando jumps up. “If we sleep now, we won’t be able to later. Let’s go out for dinner.” He’s absolutely starving, the airplane food was lumpy pasta and it’s a good thing he packed some rolls from the shop. It’s really too bad that pastries don’t travel well.

 

~

 

“This is terrible for my diet.” The footballer looks down at the visible layer of fat floating on top of his noodles. 

“You’re not on a diet when it’s vacation.” Fernando reminds him and slurps his noodles happily. Real tonkotsu ramen is hard to find in Spain, and he’s eating them at the place that started the ramen craze, what more can he ask for. 

“I still have to be relatively fit when pre-season starts again!” 

“Which isn’t for another two months.” Fernando says, putting another slice of barbeque pork in the other man’s bowl with chopsticks. 

Sergio scowls, but doesn’t protest further. They had to ask the waitress for a fork for him, whereas Fernando has been nothing but dexterous all night. He feels like a total failure and jabs at the piece of pork extra hard. 

There’s nothing but the sound of slurping noodles for a couple minutes before the older man speaks again. “You’re glad that you came right?” The footballer doesn’t seem as mopey as before, but he’s not radiating enthusiasm either. Fernando wonders if he made the right move, asking him to come along on this trip. 

“Of course.” Sergio glances at his boyfriend’s worried face. He knows Fernando’s second-guessing by the way he’s playing with his blonde bangs. It’s telltale sign, when he’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say. The footballer thinks it’s adorable. “I’d go with you to Barcelona if you asked.” He is completely serious. 

“They do have el Bulli.” Fernando exclaims. The world’s best restaurant five years in a row, he’s wanted to go his entire life. “It’s a temple of gastronomy. The mecca for all food lovers.” He says in awe. 

“New York is pretty nice though.” Sergio says, looking around them. Everyone is more interested in his or her food than the internationally famous footballer in the restaurant. Their waitress had given them a raised eyebrow, he’s not sure if that means she recognized him or not. “I like how people don’t care about us.” 

“It’s New York City. There are thousands of celebrities here at any given time.” Fernando grins. “You’re just a small fish in this grand city. Especially considering the Food and Wine Festival is going on.” 

“I highly doubt people are more interested in some chef than a footballer.” He declares with all the confidence of a Real Madrid vice-captain. 

“You don’t know who I’m cooking with do you?” The chef asks with a grin. 

Sergio shakes his head. All he knows that his boyfriend is being paired up with another chef to create a dish and a dessert. He highly doubts he’ll recognize who the other man is, there is only one guy in the kitchen he pays attention to. 

“Michael Voltaggio.” Fernando reveals. “They call him the king of culinary boners for a reason you know.” 

“What is a culinary boner? Do I even want to know?” He asks. He has never heard of this guy and dislikes him already. 

“It means he’s pretty hot stuff by chef standards.” Fernando explains. “He won some prestigious cooking competition a couple of years ago. Opened up his own restaurant, and seems pretty successful.” 

“He’s just a chef.” Sergio says, annoyed. He doesn’t like the admiration he hears in the other man’s voice. 

“So am I if you haven’t noticed.” The other chef drawls. 

“But you’re my chef.” He says, as if that makes all the difference. “You’re the only chef that matters to me.” Sergio means it too.

 

~

 

“Look there’s a museum of sex!” Sergio pulls excitedly at the fingers tangled with his. 

Fernando deadpans. “Absolutely not.” 

“Come on.” He whines, “everyone goes to the empire state building, we should do something different.” 

“Sergio Ramos wants to go to the freaking sex museum.” The chef shakes his head. “What if you get photographed?” 

“Not like they’ll learn anything new.” The footballer shrugs. He’s been photographed doing worse things than going to a museum, even though it’s a _sex_ museum. Contrary to popular belief, sex isn’t always on his mind, that’s always been football. Well, that _was_ the case before he met Fernando, now there’s only one thing always on his mind. But right now, the idea of having his attractive boyfriend in a building screaming _sex_ is just too good to pass up. “Look, don’t you want to know what panda porn is?” He points to the posters proudly displaying the exhibitions. 

Fernando wrinkles his face in disgust, “Definitely not.” He tries to drag his boyfriend away. 

Sergio pouts as they stroll past the building. Still he doesn’t protest, they’re already getting away with holding hands in public, going into a museum of sex would’ve been pushing it. 

“How about,” His boyfriend squeezes their hands; “I’ll give you the real thing when we get back?” There’s a look in the man’s eyes that causes Sergio’s heart to skip a beat and excitement to spread through his body. 

That brings a grin to the footballer’s face. “Lets hurry up and sight see then.”

 

~

 

“This is amazing.” Sergio is giggling, _giggling_ as he takes another swig of beer. 

Fernando nods emphatically, causing him to sway in his spot in line. “They need to implement this in Madrid.” It’s true, he can’t think of any other place that serves free beer while they wait for a seat. No wonder this place is a hit, he thinks as he glances at all the other happy people waiting around them. 

“I’d totally wait for a restaurant if they have free beer.” The footballer agrees. Since he’s cut down on drinking during the season, it seems like his tolerance has significantly decreased. It might be all the alcohol in his blood, but he feels so relaxed. 

“Like you ever have to wait for a table.” The taller man laughs at his tipsy boyfriend. Usually Fernando doesn’t drink much, considering how early he has to get up to proof the dough; much less on an empty stomach, and his flaming cheeks definitely say it’s not a good idea. He ignores it because they’re on vacation, and Sergio looks like he’s having a lot of fun. He hasn’t seen the footballer so carefree since the season ended. With that in mind, he downs what’s left in his cup; they have time for another round before they get called. 

Despite the fact that both of them are weaklings when it comes to spicy food, they enjoy most of the stuff on the menu. Must be all that beer, and the fact that after the first bite, their tongues are too numb to detect the fiery pain. 

“Oh my god, there’s a head at our table.” Sergio exclaims, because really, there’s an animal head staring back at him. 

“Kung Pao goat head.” The waiter says proudly as he carefully sets the head down. 

“Thank you.” Fernando says with excitement and starts poking at meaty portions of the head. 

“I’ve never eaten things that stare back at me.” The footballer says in a stricken voice. He can’t help but keep on gawking mortifyingly at the dish. 

“It’s always good to try new things.” The chef plucks out the eye socket and puts it on his boyfriend’s plate. “There, now it can’t look at you anymore.” 

If it were anyone else who put a head on the table and an eye on his plate, he probably would’ve been horrified. But this is Fernando, his love, who hasn’t led his stomach astray yet. His heart says to go for it, but then again, it’s been beating for the other man since they’ve met.

 _Carpe diem_ , he thinks and goes for it. _Squishy._

 

~

 

Fernando has his actual demonstration on Wednesday. He told Sergio was welcome to come, but after having seen the other man cook solely for him, the footballer isn’t interested in being part of the crowd. He takes the chance to do something he knows Fernando hates, shopping. 

Fifth Avenue is absolutely packed. Everyone is hustling their way down the street, talking on cellphones while chugging massive amounts of coffee. To him, it looks like everyone in New York is constantly ten minutes late to something. Still the pace of the crowd plays to his advantage. In a t-shirt, dark jeans and aviators, he probably looks just like another tourist infesting their city. Nobody gives him a second glance, other than the guy manning the coffee cart outside of Gucci – though that might be because he tried to pay with a 100€ bill. 

He finds an absolute gem of a jacket at Zegna, Sergio knew it was made for him as soon as he saw it. The torso is constructed of plaid with leather sleeves. The sales assistant gleefully lets him know that it’s crocodile skin. _Crocodile skin!_ Guti is going to be so jealous. 

By the time he’s done, he’s picked up three belt buckles, a shirt, a pair of cowboy boots and of course that amazing jacket. Fernando was right, coming to New York was a great idea; if it weren’t for the other man, he’d probably be drowning himself in his pool right now. Now all he has to do is convince the chef to take more trips around the world, maybe they can hire another César to chip in at the shop. 

Sergio is trying to flag down a cab (a lot harder when he can’t use his fame) when he sees the store. Of course, he knows all about the brand even though it’s not really flashy enough for his taste. Then again, he’s never been able to pass down another opportunity to shop and he’s not starting now. He goes in to check it out.

 

~

 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Fernando asks nervously as he shuffles forward. Sergio drove them to an abandoned back pass by the water and covered his eyes with a scarf. They’ve been slowly walking for twenty minutes now and with each minute; Fernando feels a growing sense of dread. The ground below his feet doesn’t like stable ground and there are the sounds of cars zooming by is worryingly close. 

“We’re almost there.” Sergio says and grips Fernando’s fingers in encouragement. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.” He coos and wraps an arm around his boyfriend, guiding him forward. “Just a little bit more.” 

The pastry chef leans into the other man’s touch and they keep on walking. After what it seems like an eternity (hard to tell when you can’t see), Sergio stops, “Okay, this is it.” He tugs away the knot and the fabric falls away. Fernando looks out and he can see the entire Manhattan skyline, tall skyscrapers lit up like Christmas lights. He looks around him, they’re in a service walkway underneath the Brooklyn Bridge. 

“Oh my god!” He exclaims, “how did you get us down here.” 

His boyfriend is grinning. “I’m Sergio Ramos. Don’t underestimate my connections.” He has to admit, he has truly outdone himself here, the view is stunning, and he doesn’t just mean the city. He takes out a bottle of champagne and two travel flutes. “Lets enjoy our last night in New York.” 

“Cheers.” Fernando toasts them and leans back against the footballer’s firm chest. They sit there hand in hand, sipping champagne and taking in the view of a million lights shining. He’ll never say it out loud, but it feels like those lights are twinkling just for them. He’s close to falling asleep right there, so content in Sergio’s comforting embrace when the other man shifts apart. 

“Fernando.” He sounds oddly serious. 

“Yes?” 

Sergio fumbles and takes out a teal box with a white ribbon, Tiffany and Co. embossed on it. Fernando’s breath hitches and all of a sudden his heart is pounding. It’s too soon. He can’t. 

“Wait, wait.” Sergio steadies him. “It’s not what you think.” He presses the box into Fernando’s shaking hands. “Open it.” 

It takes way too long for the chef to undo the ribbon and when he lifts the box, he sees a pendant dangling from a fine silver chain. “Is that a… spatula?” 

“That’s what the salesperson told me.” Sergio says. He takes it out and gently clasps it behind Fernando, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck where the necklace ends. 

“It’s lovely.” The older man admits. It’s true, despite the fact he usually doesn’t wear jewelry, he can appreciate a pretty piece when he sees it. Plus, it’s a spatula, he’s never seen something that’s more fit for him. “What’s the occasion.” 

Sergio swallows and thinks for a second, he knows what he wants to express, but how hasn’t thought about how he’s going to say it. “I just want you to know how much I appreciate you.” 

The other man laughs lightly, “you don’t need to buy me things for that.” 

“No.” He shakes his head seriously. “It’s everything you do for me. Coming to my games and having to pretend you’re just a random fan in front the cameras. Making me turróns on game days and cheering me up if we lose. Being okay with the fact that I have to kiss supermodels on live TV but can’t hold your hand on the street.” 

“I love you.” Fernando simply tells the other man. It’s the reason for everything that he does. 

Sergio brings their foreheads together, so they can stare into each other’s eyes, lips almost touching. “You’re young, gorgeous, magical in the kitchen. Anyone will be lucky to have you and I can’t even show you off.” Oh how he wants to, let everyone in the world know that Sergio Ramos is taken by this man who showed him exactly how sweet life can be. 

“I don’t need any of that.” Fernando says. “I’m fine with how everything is.” It’s true, he’s happy. The shop is doing well and he has the love of his life, there is nothing more he can ask for. 

“You shouldn’t have to be.” And when the baker opens his mouth to protest, he tenderly rubs a thumb over those lips. “You deserve so much more.” 

“So do you.” Fernando draws their mouth together, it’s a simple kiss but one with all their feelings. They break apart reluctantly and he continues, “You’re it for me Sergio. You and my kitchen, that’s all I’ll need for the rest of my life.” 

It doesn’t sound like much, but Sergio knows a promise when he hears one. It’s one he’s happy to reciprocate. “Me too Nando.” He too means it forever. 

Later, when they’re flying back to Madrid, Sergio looks down on his lover dozing on his shoulder. There’s a glint of silver from the gap between where the neck meets his shirt. He has a feeling he’s coming back for a ring soon.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Real Madrid went on to win La Liga, but was knocked out of Champion’s League by Bayern Munich in a penalty shootout. Sergio took the last decisive penalty, which missed and went [ into space](http://www.whoateallthepies.tv/champions_league/121288/football-gif-sergio-ramos-penalty-gets-obligatory-ice-cream-guy-treatment.html) (it even has its own [meme](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/events/sergio-ramos-penalty-fail)).
> 
> 2\. If you haven’t seen [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pIQCPqmyOY&feature=player_embedded) of Nando in an apron, wowing us with his awful knife skills (I cringe and hope he doesn’t ever cut anything at home), then please do so now. Visually “it’s perfect”.
> 
> 3\. I really wanted to write something about halal food trucks, but it never made its way into the fic. However, without a doubt, the best part of NYC are the halal chicken carts splattered around the city, remember to go for extra white sauce.
> 
> 4\. [Mission Chinese Food](http://missionchinesefood.com/). Awesome free beer while you wait. FREE BEER that's self-serve so you don't even need to feel ashamed as you go back for your 5th cup. What more can you ask for?
> 
> 5\. Tiffany and Co. doesn’t actually have a spatula necklace. I wish they did though, and then I’ll wish I could afford it.


End file.
